


Resurgam

by Torytigress92



Series: A Match Made In Hel: the Dark Lokane Collection [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor: Ragnarok - Fandom
Genre: Aether-powered Jane, And Jane's had enough, Asgardian Magic, BAMF!Jane Foster, BrOtp: Jane/Valkyrie, BrOtp: Thorki, BrOtp: Valkyrie/Hulk, Bring Jane Back Into The MCU, Canon Appropriate Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jane's a bit salty in this one, Karaoke, Magic boots, Midgardian Magic, Past Tense, Present Tense, Sassy!Jane, Science, Snarky!Loki, TW: Suicide, TW: Swearing, The Grandmaster is nuts, The Mystic Arts, Thor and Loki's lives are a soap opera, Universe Alteration - Thor: Ragnarok, Valkyrie is a boss, implied Thor/Jane - Freeform, tense changes, tw: PTSD, tw: depression, tw: explicit sex, tw: sexual assault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 11:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13810656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torytigress92/pseuds/Torytigress92
Summary: Lokane AU of Thor: Ragnarok. Jane's break-up with Thor was a mutual dumping, as life took her in one direction and him in another. Jane was okay with it, for the most part. Until an old friend rears its amorphous crimson head in Jane's mind, destroying her life as she knows it, and throwing her right back into the cosmic mess which is the soap opera of the Odinson brothers' lives.





	1. The Not So Good, Really Bad Day

**Resurgam**

* * *

 

The text was beginning to blur before Jane’s eyes, the crackling of the ancient parchment setting her teeth on edge, as her fingers thumped its rough surface impatiently. She’d lost track of the last time she’d slept through the night, and as usual by mid-afternoon, she was exhausted. Too exhausted to focus on magical theory for long.

If she damaged the parchment in her annoyance however, Wong would have her head on a platter. Or cleaning out the toilets at Kamar-Taj again by hand, the memory of which made Jane shudder. And she’d thought Director Fury had been a tough cookie.

Jane pushed herself up from where she’d been practically lying atop the ancient book, elbows protesting loudly at the change, as she rubbed her tired eyes. Opposite her desk, a window looked out onto the bustling street below, awash with mustard-yellow New York cabs, tourists snapping photos and hot dog vendors competing for custom. There was one that stood directly opposite the New York sanctum that sprinkled fried onions and four different kinds of cheese on the dog. It was one of Jane’s guilty pleasures, especially for the look on Stephen’s face whenever he caught her eating one. She didn’t need to be a surgeon to know hot dogs were hardly nutritious food; she just didn’t give much of a damn. Especially not now.

She supposed hosting the remnant of a primordial fog with a penchant for wilful destruction and screwing up peoples’ lives had that effect.

Finally giving up on the dusty old tome in front of her, Jane stood slowly from the desk, pushing the book to one side, resting against the base of an already tottering pile of scrolls and leather-bound books. If she wanted a hot dog, she was going to need a change of clothes. Not even in New York could she get away with walking the streets looking like an extra from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.

Ten minutes later, Jane closed the door on her small room, dressed in less conspicuous clothes. It struck her as odd exactly how comfortable she’d become wearing tunics, boots and trousers, and how unfamiliar and cloying jeans and flannel now felt to her skin. She still wore her boots though, concealed under her bootcut jeans. God forbid if she ever took them off. They’d have a massive hissy-fit, then sulk for the rest of the week.

The living quarters were at the very top of the townhouse that was the Sanctum Sanctorum, only accessible by what felt like innumerable stairs. When she’d first arrived at the Sanctum, the stairs had been her worst enemy, used as she was to single-storey labs and elevators, and she’d often wondered whether it had been tradition or a sense of sadism that prevented masters of the New York Sanctum from installing lifts. Stephen always smirked when she complained, even now, and muttered some banal platitude about it being good for her spiritual wellbeing or some such bull. She often suspected he didn’t believe his own bullshit either, but he always turned miraculously deaf when she suggested installing an elevator. Even her beloved boots turned traitor on her when it came to the stairs. At least the exercise had done wonders for her muscle tone in the past eighteen months.

As she reached the main gallery, she stopped and listened as a strange crashing sound began echoing down the cavernous hall. It sounded like something crashing through metal and wood, and it was getting closer.

Suddenly, she was thrown sideways, out of the path of an incongruously flying umbrella, and landed heavily on her backside. Jane scrambled to her feet, shock and uncertainty warring with curiosity, as her feet refused to move. She hesitated, feeling that noxiously familiar sense of urgency rise in her blood, then cursed under her breath and went to run in the same direction as the umbrella. Except this time, her feet refused to move for an entirely different reason.

“C’mon, girls! Seriously!?” she huffed, staring down at the weathered brown leather peeking out from under her jeans. “First you throw me on my ass, now you’re just being difficult.” Still, she couldn’t move her feet. “And today was turning out to be an almost good day. Yoda, Obi-Wan, I swear to god, if you don’t let me move, I will take you off. Now come on!”

The pressure holding her feet in place abruptly dissipated, and she turned and sprinted towards the stairs. She rolled her eyes and huffed again under her breath. Relics, more trouble than they were worth. Almost.

As she emerged onto the first floor landing, she skidded to a halt, suddenly immensely grateful for the shadows cast by the ornately high windows and wooden pillars around her.

Directly below her, dusting wood chips and plaster off his umbrella, stood Thor. He was dressed casually, in Earth attire, his long golden hair haphazardly tied back. The sight of him made Jane’s breath catch in her throat, her eyes widening by the moment.

Stephen stood opposite him, while an open portal crackled and spat vivid orange sparks of Eldritch magic beside him. Jane calmed her racing heart, hoping that would ease the urgency in her blood, and avoid another incident. She’d been doing so well, it had been so long since her last…outburst. She wouldn’t let Thor ruin her streak now.

What was he even doing here? What business did he have with Stephen and the Sanctum? Had he come for her? Did he know? Or was this something to do with his search for the Infinity Stones?

Hot dogs and incidents forgotten, Jane slipped further into the shadows, and settled in to listen.

“I suppose I’ll need my brother back,” he said, with an air of resigned exasperation. Jane’s brows furrowed as she frowned. Loki was dead! She’d seen him die right in front of her, on that dusty, windswept plain on Svartalheim. What the hell…?

Stephen seemed to be labouring under no such confusion. “Oh yeah, right,” he said, raising his hand and making a circling motion with the other. Another portal sparked into being, as a hoarse cry emanated from it, followed by the flailing figure of a pale, dark-haired man in a black suit.

Jane’s jaw dropped. Loki was alive and well, if somewhat windswept and ruffled as he sprawled on the polished wooden floor where he‘d fallen from the portal.

Questions upon questions sparked in Jane’s mind, along with a slow burning anger she was powerless to suppress entirely.

“I have been falling for thirty minutes!” Loki snarled, as he flicked the lank strands of his hair out of his face. Jane couldn’t see either his or Stephen’s expressions where they stood with their backs to her hiding place, but she could imagine her mentor’s from the look of quiet amusement on Thor’s face.

“You can handle him from here,” Stephen stated quietly to Thor, as Loki climbed painfully to his feet. Thor stepped towards the sorcerer and held out his hand.

“Yes, thank you very much for your help,” he said, shaking the human’s gloved hand.

“Handle me?!” Loki demanded, finally turning to face his brother and Stephen. He looked unchanged from the last time Jane had seen him, apart from the lack of bleeding hole in his midsection and a smidgen more colour in his cheeks. He looked a tad healthier, less drawn and skinny, than the last time as well. “Who are you?” he asked, in a quiet, lethal growl as he flicked his hands out to the sides, twin daggers appearing from nowhere in his graceful fingers. Jane remembered their deadly skill all too well. Thor moved to stop him half-heartedly, as Jane felt her heart abruptly race, as she watched Loki move towards Stephen with lethal intent. “You think you’re some kind of a sorcerer? Don’t think for one minute, you second-rate-!”

At the sight of Loki lunging for the human sorcerer, Jane reacted without thinking. She rushed towards the balustrade and leapt into the air.

* * *

 

Loki was really not having a very good day. First, his overgrown dolt of a brother had returned home, unannounced and unlooked-for. Then, said overgrown dolt had somehow worked out his masquerade and exposed his illusions in front of all of Asgard, ending his reign as King. He’d been unceremoniously dragged to Earth in search of his recalcitrant adopted parent, and then swallowed up by some Norns-forsaken portal that had left him falling through nothingness for the past half hour. And to top it all off, he’d finally stopped falling only to find himself sprawled in a most undignified fashion in front of his brother and some fool in a shabby cloak.

No, today most certainly ranked among some of the worst in Loki’s memory. Not least because of the ferocious termagant that appeared from nowhere and slammed into his chest, sending him sprawling for the second time that day, this time on his back. He distantly heard a heavy thud as something landed on the wooden tiling in front of the human sorcerer and Thor, as he craned his head up to look, groaning as he did so.

He was as shocked as his brother, at the sight before him. “Jane?” Thor gasped.

Jane Foster stood before them, knees bent low and elbows raised in a combat stance, one Loki recognised even if he was sure the mortals had a different term for it than Asgardian training manuals, clad in faded denim jeans, a red flannel shirt, only partially buttoned so her white camisole showed through. She didn’t look especially different from the first time Loki had glimpsed her, through the eyes of the Destroyer oh so long ago. For her, at least. And despite her sartorial consistency, time had certainly moved on for his brother’s former lover.

Whereas before she had worn her hair in gentle, caramel waves to mid-back, now it hung in messy, sun-kissed curls to her shoulders. Gone was the soft figure of the scientist, and instead Loki could see well-muscled limbs that clearly knew what they were about. As he looked up to the mortal woman’s face, he could see other, subtler changes too. She looked a little older, though not by much, a few lines around the corners of her eyes and mouth, that spoke of emotional and physical anguish. At Thor’s voice, she’d tensed and her eyes had flashed a deep shade of red, one Loki would have recognised immediately, even without the tinge of scarlet mist twining itself around her fingers like silk.

Despite their best attempts, despite everything he and Thor had done to try and free her from its influence, something of the Aether still remained inside Jane Foster. But there was more than that, Loki was sure of it. He could sense it: power, and not just the Aether. Now he focussed his senses, he could feel it in the human sorcerer who now stepped forward, his gloved hand on Jane’s shoulder, whispering soothingly into her ear. And he could feel it in Jane too.

And oddly enough, in her boots too.

“Jane Foster,” Loki began, charmingly if somewhat strained due to his unwanted encounter with the floor. “A pleasure as always. But we must stop meeting like this. I‘m not sure my face could take any more punishment at your hands.”

“You’ve walked off worse, if I recall correctly,” she replied coolly, despite the flames flickering in her eyes and along her fingers. Her breathing was frantic and uncontrolled, as she closed her eyes tightly, lowering her hands.

“That’s it, Jane. Focus, draw it in,” the human sorcerer, Strange Thor had called him, soothed her, icy blue eyes intent on her face. “You’re safe. There is nothing and no one here who will lay a finger on you.”

Loki’s interest was piqued by that statement, as he eyed Jane closely. She appeared strained, barely holding it together. The Aether swirled and flickered around the edges of her silhouette, like bloody flames, her hands clenching into fists before they petered out abruptly, and her eyes opened, revealing their return to their usual caramel brown hue. “I’m okay,” she breathed, with a small smile in Strange’s direction. “I’m under control.”

“Jane, how…?” Thor began, gesturing towards her with his umbrella. It had to be one of the few times Loki had ever known his brother utterly helpless in his speechlessness.

“Hey, Thor. You look good,” Jane turned towards him, her smile fading slightly. “How’s the Nine Realms?”

“Could be better,” the Norse God shrugged, attempting nonchalance but failing terribly. “Jane, what’s happened to you?”

Jane inhaled deeply, as if steeling herself, but Strange interjected. “That is a very long story and one we don’t have time for. Portals wait for no man, or god,” he said, gesturing towards the still sparking portal beside him. “Perhaps you could accompany them, Jane, just until they’re safely on their way.”

Loki watched as Jane’s eyes widened in alarm, as she turned her back on the two brothers to stare at the other mortal. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Stephen. What if I lose control…?”

“Because you won’t,” the mortal sorcerer interrupted, with a soft smile that strangely annoyed Loki. Glancing sideways at Thor, he noted that his brother was also somewhat discomfited by the familiarity with which this Strange person treated Jane. “You haven’t had an incident in months, Jane. Your control has only improved, and if all else fails, I will only be a portal away. You have your sling ring and your relic, so you can come straight back after you see these fine gentlemen on their way.”

“But what if-?” Jane tried to object again, her mien the very definition of reluctance. Strange held up a gloved hand to quiet her. To Loki’s surprise, the fiery mortal astrophysicist complied.

“Jane, it’s time. You can’t stay locked in the Sanctum forever,” he told her, quietly and soothingly. “You can do this.”

Jane sighed, looking down at her boots before she nodded once. When she turned back to the two Aesir, her earlier uncertainty had melted away and Loki was once more faced with the calm implacability of the woman he’d once known, her eyes only quickly perusing him before she looked to his brother. “Shall we?” she gestured to the portal, before turning her back on them and stepping without hesitation through the fiery ring.

Loki glanced at Thor, unsurprised to see unease and a certain desolation at Jane’s apparent indifference towards him. Despite their ‘mutual dumping’, Thor had clearly envisioned a rather different scenario for his reunion with Jane. Thor met Loki’s gaze, his face easing into its usual blasé cheeriness as he gestured for Loki to enter the portal first, but a grimness lingered in the tightness of his smile as he then inclined his head to the mortal sorcerer in farewell.

Turning away from his brother and the would-be sorcerer, Loki followed Jane through the portal.

* * *

 

 _‘Why oh why, out of every bloody person on Earth and in the universe, did it have to be Thor? Why did it have to be him visiting the flipping Sanctum!?’_ Jane’s thoughts whirled and raced as she stepped out onto a grassy headland, overlooking an iron-grey sea. It was chilly, despite the sunlight peeking its way through the cloud banks above, making Jane wish she’d grabbed a coat before going through the portal.

The Aether still sparked in her veins, denied a outlet, making her shudder as she scanned their surroundings for any sign of Odin. She was going to have to do some serious meditating tonight to try and ease it back into its cage permanently. At that moment, it was on a leash and it was straining.

The thought brought her back to her current predicament: namely the two Norse Gods who had suddenly and abruptly dropped back into her life, one of whom was supposed to be dead. And they just happened to be looking for the snobby father of her ex-boyfriend to boot. This was turning out to really be a not so good day.

Dimly, she heard the sound of the portal closing behind the two brothers and turned to face them. Loki was dishevelled from his long fall through whatever dimension Strange had sent him to while he dealt with Thor, and as pale and tall as she recalled from that brief time on Svartalheim. She idly noticed how good he looked in a suit, before firmly clamping down on that thought in horror. She did not just think that about her ex-boyfriend’s adopted, psychotic brother. Nope. No way.

Thor was giving her a strange, searching look, eying her from head to toe. Jane had sometimes wondered, when she was feeling especially sorry for herself, whether she’d feel anything, any stirring of old feelings, if she ever saw Thor again. To her faint surprise, she felt nothing but a vague sense of annoyance. Too much had happened since she had seen him last, it seemed.

“I see your manners haven’t improved much since you left Earth,” she called over to him, startling him from his perusal as he stared at her, baffled.

“I think she means your incessant staring, brother,” Loki nudged Thor, mock-helpfully and with the biggest shit-eating grin Jane had ever seen. He was enjoying this, just a tad.

“Forgive me, Jane. It’s just…” Thor began, then trailed off awkwardly. Jane smirked bitterly, folding her arms over her chest.

“Let’s get this out of the way. Yes, I still have a bit of the Aether in me, no it’s not your fault so quit with the self-guilt trip I can see starting. Yes it’s been a problem, no I don’t need you to rescue me. Ok?” she stated coolly, ticking each invisible point off on her fingers. Thor closed his mouth, and nodded.

“So…you and that mortal sorcerer…Strange, was it? You and him…” Thor asked, making Jane stare at him with ice in her eyes.

“You’ve been gone two years, and that’s what you’re leading with? Seriously?!” she snapped, her eyes narrowing as the Aether flared inside her. With a surge of will, Jane forced it back down, before turning her back on the brothers. “FYI, no. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“I’m so glad to see you as fiery as ever, Doctor Foster,” Loki chuckled behind her, as Jane ignored him to continue scanning their vicinity for the All-Father, her annoyance slowly fading. Stephen’s locator spell should have got them pretty close, so he couldn’t be far away.

At Loki’s sharp intake of breath, Jane span back towards the sea and the cliff edge, spotting a hunched figure in an off-white suit. She hung back as Thor strode past her, all preoccupation with her love life apparently forgotten at the sight of his father, and glimpsed Loki following behind slowly and reluctantly.

“Father?” Thor called, gently.

“Look at this place,” the All-Father replied. “It’s beautiful.”

“Father, it’s us,” Thor tried again, stepping closer to his sire intently. Loki reached their side, eyes down and hesitant. Jane drifted closer only slowly, not wanting to intrude on their reunion, and not wanting to hear any potential vitriol the All-Father might throw her way. She especially didn’t want him to look at her and see what his sons had both seen.

But to her surprise, as she walked closer, the All-Father seemed changed. Gone was the arrogance and the superiority, as he stared out at the sea. His voice was gentle, sad and loving. “My sons, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“We’ve come to take you home,” Thor replied.

“Home, yes,” the All-Father mused, still staring at the sea. “Your mother, she calls me. Do you hear it?”

Jane inhaled sharply at the reference to that strong, wise woman who had given her life for Jane’s. Old grief rose like a whispering ghost, plucking at the bulwarks of her control. She was dimly aware of Thor’s growled demand for Loki to lift his magic, as she rubbed tears from her eyes.

Odin chuckled. “It took me quite a while to break free from your spell,” he said to Loki, as he turned away from the sea and towards a trio of boulders set back from the cliff’s edge. “Frigga would have been proud.” Jane glimpsed the pain on Loki’s unusually open features at his father‘s words, his eyes showing something Jane had once thought him incapable of.

Love, desperate, burning love.

In the flames of Puente Antiguo and New York, she’d thought him an unfeeling monster, devoid of anything so pure as love. On Svartalheim, she’d glimpsed it, as he had lain dying in his brother’s arms. Now, she saw it full-force, and despite herself, something in her clenched at the sight of it. She moved closer, without consciously doing so, as the All-Father caught sight of her for the first time. “Jane Foster,” he sighed. Jane tensed, waiting for some insult, for some of that self-righteous fire to return at the sight of the mortal woman once again in company of his precious son. “It is fitting that you are here as well. You were there at their beginning, now you must follow it through to its end.”

“What do you mean?” Jane asked, stepping closer. The All-Father’s single eye, tired and sad, searched hers, making her want to fidget. She forced herself to stay still under his scrutiny, as he spoke once more.

“I paid you great insult, once. You took on a burden you should never have had to bear, twice,” he said, quietly but firmly. “And I see those burdens still remain in some form.”

Jane tensed, her heart pounding at the realisation that the All-Father had discovered her secret. She knew this was a bad idea.

“Come, sit with me,” he said abruptly. “I don’t have much time.”

There were only three boulders. Jane hovered at Loki’s shoulder, uncertain and feeling horribly self-conscious. Despite the All-Father’s relatively welcoming words, she still felt like an intruder. The sea breeze plucked at her hair, as she tucked it back behind her ear irritably.

“I know we failed you, but we can make this right,” Thor said entreatingly, leaning close to his father while Loki and Jane watched in silence.

“I failed you,” the All-Father demurred, stunning them all. He chuckled again at their shock. “It is true, I did. As you have thought yourself, many times, Jane Foster.”

“I have,” she admitted. “I just never thought I’d hear you say it.”

“Pride is a pointless emotion, now” he replied, with a slight smirk, surprisingly self-deprecating for the once proud King of Asgard. It broke Jane’s heart, seeing the All-Father so changed, so unlike the towering pillar of power and strength she’d first encountered on Asgard. He had been humbled, and despite how uncomfortable it made her, Jane had to admit it was for the better. “Tis upon us. Ragnarok.”

“No, I’ve stopped Ragnarok. I put an end to Surtur,” Thor protested. Jane frowned, searching her memory for the term. Erik had told her stories, when she was a kid, stories of the Twilight of the Gods.

“No,” the All-Father shook his head. “It has already begun. She’s coming. My life was all that held her back but my time has come.”

“But, Loki and Thor have come to take you home. Surely Asgard has something that can help you-?” Jane asked, but the All-Father still shook his head.

“No. My time has come, Jane Foster, as will yours, one day. One day, many, many years from now,” the All-Father replied, with a piercing glance at her. Jane tensed, wondering if he would reveal what she was sure he knew, somehow, and tell all to the two brothers sat beside him. The All-Father looked away from her, inhaling the salty, icy sea air deeply, visibly savouring every breath. “I cannot keep her away any longer,” he sighed, regretfully.

“Father, who are you talking about?” Thor asked, his face pained. Jane felt herself soften slightly at the sight, feeling for his obvious anguish at finding his father so changed and apparently on the brink of death.

“Goddess of Death. Hela,” the All-Father replied bluntly. “My firstborn. Your sister.”

Jane’s jaw dropped. Loki turned to stone beside her, staring at the All-Father in astonishment while Thor inhaled sharply, as if punched in the gut. “Your what?” he gasped.

“Her violent appetites grew beyond my control. I couldn’t stop her, so I imprisoned her. Locked her away,” the All-Father explained.

“That does seem to be your MO when your kids step out of line,” Jane muttered without thinking, stunned by the revelation but unsurprised by Odin’s way of dealing with her.

“Jane!” Thor snapped angrily, making Jane jump but the All-Father put a calming hand on his arm.

“No, my son. She is right to be so condemnatory. It was my first, and greatest, mistake,” he sighed.

“No, he’s right. Now’s not the time or the place. I’m sorry,” Jane replied, more to Thor and Loki than to Odin. Thor nodded once, while Loki still stared at his father, blind to all else.

“You are more gracious than I, still, Jane Foster. But you are still right. Locking Hela away was my first mistake, and unfortunately not my last,” the All-Father smiled at her, warmly, and Jane shivered in the cold wind. He turned back to his sons, his tone gaining a desperate edge as he spoke more urgently. “She draws her strength from Asgard and once she gets there, her powers will be limitless.

“And this Hela will cause Ragnarok?” Jane asked, frowning. The All-Father did not answer.

“Whatever she is, we can stop her together. We can face her together,” Thor asserted.

“No, we won’t,” the All-Father shook his head with a tired sigh. “I’m on a different path now. This you must face alone. I love you, my sons.”

At that, Jane looked away from the trio of Aesir, and out towards the sea. She had never seen Thor look so broken, not even when they thought Loki was dead, and the anguish in Loki’s eyes…she couldn’t bear to see it. Once again, she felt awkward and out of place. This moment wasn’t for her eyes and ears, but she had little choice. She couldn’t leave until Thor and Loki were safely on their way back to Asgard.

“Look at that. Remember this place,” the All-Father said, gesturing at their surroundings, the peace of the seagulls as they glided from current to current in the cloud-clad sky, the implacable serenity of the ocean as it crashed and ground against the base of the cliffs below them. “Home.”

Jane felt the word reverberate through her, as she closed her eyes. Home, she could barely remember what that word meant anymore.

As Jane opened her eyes, she saw a cloud of golden particles flow past her, and turned to see that the All-Father had disappeared. Remembering Frigga’s funeral, and the way her body had turned into a glittering mist of silver-blue energy, Jane realised that the All-Father was gone. As Loki and Thor rose to their feet, she stood beside them and watched as the sea breeze carried the last remnants of Odin, son of Bor, away into eternity.

* * *

 

As silence fell and there was nothing left but the sound of gulls and the waves below, Jane’s heart ached for the two men stood beside her. Even for Loki.

And for once, she couldn’t feel the prickle of the Aether at the edges of her consciousness, subsumed by a grief she hadn’t expected to feel. She supposed it was not grief for who the All-Father was to her, but for who he’d been to Thor, and even for what he had represented. He had been a beacon of strength and power over the millennia, a behemoth bestriding Time and Space, who had seen and done countless wondrous and terrible things. Things few people, and especially mortals, could imagine. Jane had always valued knowledge. It was little wonder she mourned the passing of one who had been so full of it, despite his own former attitudes to her.

The silence was broken by the sound of thunder, as clouds that had been pale and peaceful turned stormy, threatening as the sky darkened above them. Jane felt the power like a rush of electrical energy over her skin, and the Aether answered, rising up to push once more against Jane’s control. She turned to see Thor, fists clenched tight, every muscle taut as a string ready to snap, glaring at Loki.

“Brother…” Loki began to speak, cautiously.

To Jane’s shock, she saw tendrils of electricity writhing over Thor’s hand, where it lay shaking against his thigh. Eyes wide, she realised that he was creating it somehow, without Mjolnir. For a moment, Jane’s old impetuous need to understand awoke, as her mind raced. Did Mjolnir operate as a conductor then, to channel electrical energy, rather than its source? Was Thor its source?

Jane was brought out of her musings suddenly by Thor’s angry, low growl at his brother. “This was your doing!”

Without thinking, Jane pushed Loki aside and put herself between them. At the same time, she conjured a mandala from each hand, shielding Loki with her own body. “Thor, enough,” she murmured, lowly, calmingly. “He wouldn’t want you to fight. Haven’t you done enough fighting to last a lifetime?”

Thor had paused at her words, staring bemusedly at the golden energy emanating from Jane’s fingertips, branding archaic symbols on the air, even as her words recalled painful memories of a barge, warring brothers and a mother’s funeral. He closed his eyes and took a step back, forcing his anger down as Jane lowered her hands, the mandalas fading away. Loki watched the exchange with wide eyes.

The moment was broken by a crackling noise, as all three turned their backs to the sea, and a rift opened, emerald energy discharge snapping writhing from the aperture as it widened swiftly. Jane summoned the shield mandalas from her hands once more, the fiery wave of the Aether pressing against her skin, bursting to get out. She gritted her teeth, refusing to release it.

Thor and Loki stepped forward, Thor summoning a burst of lightning and Loki’s suit disappearing beneath a wave of green energy, to reveal their Asgardian armour. “Jane, get out of here!” Thor barked, as he hefted Mjolnir in readiness. “This isn’t your fight.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, Thor,” she replied, stepping forward to stand between them, her mandalas shining. “I’m not the girl I once was. I don’t need you to rescue me.”

“Regardless, Doctor Foster,” Loki interjected, drawing her gaze. His own was oddly soft as he looked at her, though with a patronising glint that riled Jane’s already strained temper. “He’s right. This isn’t your fight.”

“But this is my planet you’re standing on,” she retorted coldly. “And until that changes, I have a job to do. I’m not going anywhere.”

Loki opened his mouth to argue further, but any more discussions was cut off as the rift widened and sparked. Through the darkness and green bubbles of energy, Jane could see a figure approaching, clad in ragged black and green armour, hair lank and unkempt. A woman.

Hela, the so-called Goddess of Death.

She was pale, eyes heavily outlined with black kohl, a satisfied smirk on her shapely mouth. Jane supposed she was beautiful, but for the feral, vicious gleam in her eyes. “So, he’s gone. That’s a shame, I would’ve liked to have seen that,” Hela drawled, pouting like a child denied a treat. She spoke with the same refined accent as every Asgardian Jane had ever met, but there was no warmth in her voice.

“You must be Hela,” Thor said. “I’m Thor, son of Odin.”

“Really? You don’t look like him,” Hela smirked, eyes raking over Thor contemptuously.

“Perhaps we can come to an arrangement,” Loki said, on Jane’s other side.

“You sound like him,” Hela scoffed, before her feral eyes fell on Jane. “And what do we have here? Midgardian magic?” she scoffed again, chuckling scornfully. “How quaint. So we’re on Midgard? No wonder I don’t feel quite like myself yet.”

“I think you’ll find us Midgardians are full of surprises,” Jane snapped, her temper frayed, her will buckling as the Aether pounded in her blood.

“I doubt it,” Hela said dismissively, as she smiled cruelly. “Kneel.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki asked incredulously.

Hela lazily extended her arm to the side, before flicking her wrist in a sharp movement. Jane didn’t see the sword form, or where it came from, but it suddenly appeared in Hela’s hand as it had always been there. “Kneel before your queen,” she said.

“I don’t think so,” Thor declared quietly, stepping forward before he raised Mjolnir. He released the hammer and sent it soaring towards Hela. Jane waited, fully expecting to see Hela thrown backwards by the power of the hammer, if not entirely obliterated, when the impossible happened.

Hela reached out her hand…and stopped Mjolnir in its path.

Jane gasped, as Loki hauled in a breath beside her. Thor stood, straining to recall the hammer, as it vibrated with all the suppressed force that Hela was somehow blocking. “It’s not possible,” Thor grunted brokenly. Mjolnir had always defied the laws of physics as Jane had known them, but this was something else.

With a sinking heart, Jane wondered if a choice was fast approaching. Her mind raced through the various scenarios, none of them reassuring. Odin had said that Hela’s power came from Asgard; if they took her there, it would only increase. If they kept her here, Earth was at risk. She couldn’t use her sling ring and fetch Stephen, because that could lead Hela back to New York and she couldn’t put the city at risk, let alone abandon Thor and Loki. She wasn’t sure her magic was going to be any good against Hela. Which left…

Well, at least they were in an isolated spot. Minimal collateral damage, just some seagulls. Could be worse.

Jane’s choice was made for her, as Hela’s smile only grew more vicious as she watched her brother. “Darling, you have no idea what’s possible,” she stated, before she crushed Mjolnir into pieces. The hammer disintegrated, leaving only the shaft to fall to the ground, useless. Lightning rent the air, as Jane enlarged her mandalas to cover them all, and the pieces of Mjolnir fell to the ground. Hela ran her hands over her skull, apparently summoning a many pronged helmet to cover her head, before summoning twin blades to her hands.

Jane dropped one shield to conjure a sparking, golden whip of energy. She slashed at Hela’s face, extending the energy outwards until it reached the distance between them, but Hela parried the blow, before spinning on her heels and slashing the whip in half. With a second blow, she sliced it in half again, until Jane was forced to let it dissipate with a cry. With one last desperate try, Jane conjured a space shard and sent it flying towards Hela. The Goddess simply ducked and parried the shard with her blade, sending it flying away from them until it dissipated.

Hela laughed delightedly. “Ooh, I like this one. She’s fun to play with,” she crowed, continuing to step menacingly and slowly towards them. Taking her time, a lioness at the hunt. “Perhaps Midgard will be worth conquering after all.”

Jane panted from the effort of using her magic, her focus wavering as terror rose in her blood. Hela was too strong, she couldn’t be stopped. Unless…

Jane had no choice.

“Jane, what are you…-?” Thor asked, as Jane took a step forward, dropping her mandala shields.

“Sorry, Thor. Not too sure how this is going to go so…” Jane breathed, as she closed her eyes while Hela stalked ever closer. With a shudder, Jane felt for the walls in her mind, the walls she kept up constantly to prevent her unwanted houseguest from breaking loose and hurting people. Praying she wouldn’t regret it, Jane tore them down and let the Aether loose with a cry.

Scarlet red, fluid energy burst from Jane’s outstretched hands, as Jane opened her eyes to reveal blood red orbs glaring down Hela, all colour chased away so that even the whites were consumed. Hela disappeared under a tidal wave of scarlet, as Jane desperately tried to focus the power enough to avoid effectively nuking the entire area.

Behind her, Thor and Loki shielded their eyes against the glare as the Aether met Hela, her own power clashing against it. Moments flew past, as they stood and waited, jaws agape, stunned and not a little afraid, as sweat poured down Jane’s face, her teeth gritted against the strain. A trickle of blood erupted from Jane’s nose, winding its lazy way down her mouth until it dripped from her chin. She was insensate to it all, focussed only on channelling the Aether towards Hela and stopping it from hurting anyone else.

Abruptly, the deluge stopped as Jane teetered on her feet, her shaking limbs unable to hold her. As she fell back, Loki caught her in his arms as Thor stepped forward, shielding them with his own body. Jane collapsed into Loki’s hold, barely conscious, as her eyes slowly turned back to their normal hue. Thor waited, nerves stretched taut, eyes straining to see through the fog of the dissipating Aether as it siphoned back into Jane.

Where the Aether had touched, the ground was a smoking, blackened furrow of scorched earth. But to Thor and Loki’s horror, Hela stood in the midst of the devastation, unharmed if pale, and with a few more rips and tears in her armour.

Panting, she lowered her arms where they had been raised to shield herself. “Well, that one was actually a challenge,” she grinned. “Silly mortals, playing with Infinity Stones. Now where were we?”

“Bring us back!” Loki shouted desperately to the heavens, horror turned to terror, even as he still clutched Jane tightly.

“No!” Thor roared, trying to charge Hela as the heavens opened and the Bifrost snatched them up.

Jane was only vaguely aware of the rushing noise and crystalline light of the Bifrost, as they soared through space and time towards Asgard. She was flying upwards too, lightly held in Loki’s arms. She glimpsed a blur of scarlet as Thor passed them, then Thor’s warning shout. “LOKI! JANE!”

Suddenly, Jane felt the cold slice of a blade as it brushed her arm, and Loki’s scream, as they were pulled sideways and out of the Bifrost. The last thing she heard was Thor’s cry of denial, as suffocating darkness blotted out her consciousness, leaving her floating in the void.

Her only anchor the pale hand clutching tightly to her own.

* * *

 

_To be continued…_

 


	2. In The Aether

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day everything changed...

**Resurgam**

* * *

 

_The light sears Jane’s aching, dust-encrusted eyelids as she laboriously levers them open, wincing as every muscle in her body seems to shriek in agony when she tries to move. With a groan, she pushes herself over onto her front, trying to get herself upright._

_Nausea washes over her with a sickening, insidious intensity, as she stops and heaves, but her stomach is empty. She coughs, her forehead cold against hard cobbles._

_Is that sirens she can hear? Screaming? Shouting? She can’t understand what anyone’s saying…_

_Sucking in a deep breath, the air strangely tainted by some metallic taste in Jane’s mouth, she forces her head upright, her airways still wracked with dust-coated spasms. Her eyes open to the devastation before her eyes._

_She had been taking a shortcut home, through an alley. It had been a shortcut she has taken a thousand times, without incident. Not this time…_

_Jane’s eyes search frantically, futilely, for the other person in the alley when…what? What had happened? She can’t remember._

_She can’t remember what caused the gaping crater she is now kneeling on all fours in, smoking as if freshly hit by some missile, the concrete broken and pitted, while around her the brick walls of the surrounding houses are crumbling, their edges blackened and scorched as if by flames._

_Her heart is pounding, throbbing with fear and urgency, and black, black despair. There is something there, in her head, something else, whispering, whispering away. Death, destruction, rage, darkness, beauty, such beauty…_

_No. It can’t be. It can’t be._

_As Jane stumbles from the crater, her blood pulsing scarlet red with ancient power, she dazedly realises the full extent of the chaos. A full city block nearly obliterated, buildings collapsing, glass shattered like broken diamonds on the pitted pavement. It looks like a war zone._

_Jane ignores the shouts, the helping hands. She just pushes them away and runs._

* * *

 

_She should have known that she couldn’t outrun them. As she paces her flat, eyes scanning the bleary London sky for some sign, for some growing whirlpool of cloud and rainbow-hued light, they come for her._

_Not SHIELD. SHIELD is dead. At this point, Jane would almost welcome the familiar sight of Agent Coulson and his too-bland smile and wrinkled suit. She doesn’t recognise these agents. They say they’re from the UN._

_She warns them to stay back, to keep away. That she’s dangerous and she doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. It’s a lie, she knows. She just wishes she wasn’t right._

_They’re cautious, of course they are. She can see the tranquilliser dart guns in their hands instead of regular handguns, but they don’t comfort her. She doesn’t want to get dragged off to some lab, far from daylight, to be poked and prodded by scientists that see her more as a thing than a human. She doesn’t want to be locked away until some government suit finds a use for her. She doesn’t want to die and be buried in some unmarked grave because she’s a threat. And she is, Jane knows she is. She’s seen for herself what the Aether can do._

_And now she’s a murderer. There is blood on her hands. She’s a killer._

_Jane knows it’s selfish, that she should go with them. That she’s a threat to everyone else. But she’s selfish and she’s terrified, and she really doesn’t want to go with these faceless, smooth-voiced goons._

_She’s scared, so scared. She cowers into the corner of her living room, between the TV and the window, arms outstretched, a vain attempt to keep them all away. She sees one turn his head to speak in his mike. Another nods, and her fingers tightens on the trigger of her tranq gun._

_Terror spikes in Jane’s blood. The Aether gleefully rises to the call._

_“NO!” Jane screams. She sees it this time, sees the scarlet energy spew forth from her very pores, unfurling outward until everything is consumed in a burning, smoking hurricane of destruction._

_The energy is too much for her to handle. She falls unconscious, her eyes closed on carnage and hellfire as it consumes everything. She is a killer a second time, dozens of times over now._

_The Aether swirls and pulses in her blood, sated. For now._

* * *

 

_When she wakes, her head pounds. She is groggy and barely able to form a coherent thought. All around her stand men and women in hazmat suits, beady eyes peering down at her. Gloved hands hold the latest Stark tech tablets, while other check the machines Jane is hooked up to, recording all her vital data._

_They tell her she has caused devastation in central London. They accuse her of being a terrorist, an enhanced human who knowingly concealed her abilities. They accuse her of being an Inhuman. Jane doesn’t know what any of those words mean. She can barely recall her own name at this point._

_They say they’re going to run some tests on her. They just need to start with a little blood._

_Fear once more breaks through, tearing apart the floating haze in Jane’s brain, and she protests weakly. No._

_They don’t listen. The Aether strikes them down, although this time it is not so destructive as whatever happened in that London alleyway, and her flat. Only one is thrown back, his spine crushed by the impact with the wall._

 

_After that, they try many different methods to experiment on her, to try and uncover what she is, and how she does what she can do. Jane tries to answer their questions, but she does not understand it herself. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t keep away the fear and the Aether lashes out in reply. People, robots, all go flying. It defends her, asleep or awake, even when they try to sedate her with tranq darts fired from a sniper rifle._

_In the end, she is left in her cold, concrete box. Jane counts in her head the time between when the lurid fluorescent lights flicker on, and when they shut off. Twelve hours, precisely. Her meals are delivered via a hatch in the door. Her only clothes are a blue jumpsuit with a strange layer of wiring. Jane wonders if it carries some kind of charge, to shock the wearer into unconsciousness._

_Jane imagines she could use the Aether to escape. As the days pass, her memory of what happened in London sharpens, and she recalls the way she obliterated the alleyway and her walls of her flat. And the ceiling. And the floor. She doesn’t try to escape after they tell she destroyed the entire block of flats. Her mum’s flat. Her notebook, full of her scribblings. Gone. Dozens dead. Even more killed in the alleyway incident._

_She’s a monster, a threat. She won’t risk letting the Aether back into the world after that. She deserves this, the guilt like a cold emptiness eating away at her, always niggling at the edges of her consciousness when she thinks of Darcy, Ian and Erik. She’s a monster. She doesn’t deserve them._

* * *

 

_She is in a place called the Raft. It’s a prison for enhanced people, he tells her. Clint Barton and Wanda Maximoff are just a few illustrious names to grace the short but impressive guestlist, the guard tells her. He seems to like her, always exchanges a few words with her when he brings her breakfast, lunch and dinner. Jane clings to it, even though she doesn’t deserve it. He keeps her sane, though she doesn’t know his name._

_He tells her it’s been three months since she was taken. Three months feels like a lifetime. Jane wonders if they will execute her, somehow. Eject her cell into the ocean, let her drown so the Aether will drown with her. She wouldn’t blame them._

_There are no sharp objects in her cell to finish the job herself. She doesn’t think the Aether would let her. She doesn’t have a blanket to use as a rope._

_She tries to stop eating instead. She grows thin and pale, weak and listless. They try to force-feed her, but the Aether stops them coming near her. She can’t control it, no matter how hard she tries. But she doesn’t die. She should have died when she stopped drinking. She should have died two weeks ago when she reached the three week point in her hunger strike. She doesn’t. Her belly gnaws away at her resolve, but she doesn’t have the energy anymore to stand up and grab the tray of food by her cell door._

_She lies on her mattress, and closes her eyes. She feels the eyes of her guard on her, but doesn’t stir when he pushes the tray of food through her door. She’s too tired to feel anything anymore, even fear._

* * *

 

_She hears men arguing, raised voices protesting loudly. One she vaguely recognises, though she’s not sure where from. Her brain feels too fogged to work._

_Her cell door opens, and a men steps into her box. Short, for a man, loafers Jane guesses are expensive, though she never had much of a head for high fashion; a well-tailored grey suit, expertly knotted tie. Trimmed black beard and hair. Piercing eyes blazing with intellect, and at this moment, pain and pity. A dismissive voice, an elegant riposte thrown over his shoulder at the man stood behind him, aging, greying, with cold, empty eyes and the posture of a soldier. She recognises him from the news. Ross. He had a weird first name she can’t quite remember._

_The other one, the one who’s walking deeper into her cell. She recognises him too. Stark. Tony Stark. The Iron Man._

_He tells her she’s going to be okay now, that he wants to help her. He’s going to take her away from here, and someone else is going to take care of her. A doctor. Doctor Stephen Strange._

_Jane doesn’t feel any fear as Stark reaches out a hand to her arm, gently touching her despite Ross’s warnings. The Aether stays dormant. Jane isn’t scared._

_Stark picks her up and takes her out of that cell. She sees her guard for the first time as more than a voice, a pair of warm brown eyes and a hand. He smiles and nods his head, and she manages a weak one back. She wonders in a daze if he was the one to tell Stark about her._

_Stark takes her to a helicopter. She drifts off to sleep, lulled by the motion of flight and soft, comforting words of Tony Stark._

* * *

 

_When she wakes up, she’s in a small, mahogany-panelled room. Beside her bed is a window, and she can hear voices, sirens and car horns. Someone is selling hot dogs._

_Beside her bed sit two men. One she recognises as Tony Stark, this time dressed in old jeans and an ACDC t-shirt beneath his sports jacket. The other is esoteric in appearance, if felinely handsome. There’s grey at his temples, and his eyes watch her ceaselessly. He’s dressed in a roughspun woollen blue tunic, a red cloak draped over his shoulders. His hands are covered by gloves._

_“Good morning, Doctor Foster,” he says, his voice deep and musical. He has hetereochromia, she notices. “How are you feeling?”_

_Her mind feels clearer, even if her limbs still feel weak. Her voice is raspy and quiet from disuse she tells them so._

_“That’ll be the drugs,” Stark admitted. “They couldn’t get near you to sedate you, so they put it in your food. And well, the self-induced starvation probably wasn’t helping either.”_

_“We’re going to help you, Doctor Foster,” Doctor Strange told her kindly. “You’re safe now.”_

_Jane was sceptical. “How?” she asks, refusing to let hope rise inside her._

_Doctor Strange smiled. “Have you ever heard of the mystic arts?”_

* * *

 

_To be continued..._

 


End file.
